Squirrels love HBO

Two days ago, I get a call from my wife. Nothing unusual about that - we talk frequently. I'd probably talk to her a lot even if we weren't married, although I imagine we'd talk about different things.

I may be getting off topic here.

Anyway, as happens every once in awhile, the internet at the house had gone out. So adopting my best Apple Care/Charter Cable rep voice, I walked her through the reseting everything process that always gets it back up and running.

Well, almost always. Not this time.

Of course, the moment that the internet went down just happened to be the exact moment when she needed it to get some important work done. Joking, she said, "I guess the squirrels have been eating the cable line."

I think you see where this is going.

We called Charter, and scheduled a service call for the next day. When the guy came out, he realized that the problem wasn't in the house, but on the line coming into the house.

Come to find out three other houses on the block lost cable service. The reason? Squirrels eating the cable lines.

Apparently squirrels chomping on basic cable is a common problem that just took a while for us to experience. I know from my German Shepherd going crazy and barking out the window that the squirrels use the power and cable lines in the neighborhood for their personal freeway to get around.

I just didn't know they also used them for dinner.

Anyway, they - the cable company, not the squirrels - had one of the main streets blocked off for about four hours while they replaced the damaged cable and got everybody their Daily Show and Food Channel again.

There's a joke here somewhere about how nuts it is that squirrels would eat cable. It's right there in front of me, but I'm not going for it.

Guess I'm not that cheeky.

Halloween with the girls

I think Halloween is the most fun holiday of all. Not just because you get to dress up in any manner your heart desires. Or because you send perfectly innocent children to complete strangers' doors hoping candy is all they come back with.

I think it's fun because everyone's your friend on Halloween.

Years ago, the wife and I were in New York visiting my good friend Lisa Mehling. It was Halloween, and after dinner we found ourselves in the West Village on Christopher Street, the center point of the early gay movement in New York.

And if there's one thing we know about the gays - they do Halloween up right.

While we were walking around, I saw these three colorful characters walking up the street, laughing up a storm. I handed Lisa the camera and asked her to get a picture of me with them. I then turned to the three of them and said, "Hey girls, can I get a picture with you?" To which they replied, "Sure honey, get over here!"

I think my wife and Lisa were a little shocked by the fact that I even wanted the picture. But if you know anything about me, I'm ready for the party and I don't care who's throwing it.

So here's the picture of me with the girls on Halloween.

If it proves anything, I think it's that I clearly need to add more color to my wardrobe.

Hot enough for ya?

If you know anything about me from this blog, and I’m guessing you probably know more than you want to, you know I’m most definitely not a morning person. The reason I’m not a morning person is because I’m a late night person. I’ll stay up until all wee hours of the morning, catching up on shows I have waiting for me on the DVR, binging again on Breaking Bad, or thinking of things to post on this blog.

Which as anyone who reads it will tell you I have mixed success with.

To the point. I had a 10 a.m. meeting this morning. You’d think because I knew about it last night I would’ve gone to bed early in order to wake up early. You’d be wrong.

So when the alarm went off, I shuffled into the shower (no, it didn’t wake or refresh me), got dressed and headed out to the office to be in by 9 to prepare for the meeting.

And by prepare, I mean get coffee, chat it up, check Facebook, read Round Seventeen, and then, if there’s time, take a look at what I’m supposed to be presenting.

Being disciplined and focused has never been my strong suit.

Anyway, apparently I forgot about the fight the 405 south and I had years ago. To this day, it still spends every waking moment trying to exact it's revenge with me. And it succeeded this morning. Traffic was more horrendous than usual, so I was forced to get off and take surface streets into work in order to make it on time.

I rolled into the parking lot at 9 straight up, only to be greeted by people pouring out the doors of the building, a fire truck parked in front of it and people in bright orange vests, who looked like Walmart greeters, directing everyone to the far side of the parking lot away from the building.

Not being awake enough to really have anything register, I started walking into the building. I was stopped by one of the greeters, who told me it was a fire drill. It’s the exercise office buildings are required to go through to make sure they’re ready in case The Towering Inferno 2 ever gets made, and they use their building.

Once the drill was over, everyone went back into the building. Since everyone who was going to be in my meeting was in the parking lot, the meeting got pushed back almost an hour.

Nevertheless, I learned a valuable lesson about fire safety, taking the stairs and staying calm in an emergency.

I also learned to sleep late even when you're not supposed to. It won't matter.

A little foggy on the subject

When I worked at FCB in San Francisco, I developed the very enjoyable habit of going to the San Francisco Ad Awards show every year. Not only was it a way to see the outstanding creative work being done around town, it gave me a great excuse to go up north and catch up with my many friends who live there. Sadly, the SF ad show eventually went the way of southern California’s Belding awards.

Which means I can still go see my friends, I just can’t write it off (as easily).

I remember one year, the show was being held at the historic Fillmore, where icons like Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Muddy Waters played. You could feel history in the hall.

At this particular awards show, George Zimmer, founder and former CEO of Men’s Wearhouse, was the master of ceremonies. He made a joke wondering why all these other accounts were winning awards for their creativity but his wasn’t. I can only assume it was a rhetorical question.

Every year I went, there was the usual grousing from losing agencies about how Goodby would steal the show - much the same way people used to complain about Chiat walking off with the Beldings every year, until they changed the rules and judging criteria. Funny how sometimes entry fees speak louder than the work.

Anyway, the SF show always seemed to be a lot looser and more freewheeling.

I remember the funniest line of the night was from a presenter who starting talking about how grateful he was for his career in advertising, and then rattled off all the things he wouldn’t want to be in life.

At the top of the list was Hal Riney’s liver.

Even then it was a gutsy line. But it just speaks to the no-holds-barred fun the SF show used to be.

In a couple weeks, I'll be heading back up to go to the wedding of a good friend of mine. I'm looking forward to the wedding, the city and the feeling of possibility and originality that seems to go with it.

And if I have time, I'll catch a show at the Fillmore.

Incomplete

It's another sad, sad day for parents everywhere, but especially in Marysville, Washington.

If you've seen or heard any media today, you already know a student named Jaylen Fryberg - who was by all accounts a great kid and homecoming prince - walked into the school cafeteria, walked up to a table of his friends, pulled a gun and started shooting them.

One girl died instantly. Four others are in extremely critical condition. And at the end of it all, Fryberg killed himself.

Whenever this happens, and it happens all too frequently, I always try to calm myself down with the same false mantra every other parent uses: it could never happen at my kid's school. I'm sure every parent at Marysville was thinking that until today.

There are so many things we didn't have when I was in school. One of them was school shootings. The worse that would happen back then is you'd get beat up by someone in a school gang. Not shot or stabbed, just beat up in a fist fight.

My thoughts and prayers are with everyone in Marysville tonight. I know how much I hate it when my kids are late getting home.

I can't imagine the agony of knowing they're never coming home again.

86 the 1099

It's the very definition of buzzkill. You work a certain number of days for an agreed rate, and you expect to see that amount on the check. Then payday rolls around, and you're as giggly as a 13-year old on her way to a One Direction concert. But when you open the envelope, thanks to Uncle Sam, the check is about a third lighter than you expected.

That giant sucking sound? It's all the things you were going to do with the money disappearing.

Here's how it used to work.

You'd go into an agency, do the work, then send them an invoice. Maybe they'd ask you to sign a NDA. Maybe. Then, you'd get a check for what you invoiced. Every cent. The rate you'd agreed on. The amount you expected.

It was called 1099 income. And it was a beautiful thing. But that was then and this is now.

Apparently those boys at the IRS have no sense of humor when it comes to not getting their payroll taxes from the working masses. Which is what was happening with freelancers in agencies.

So now, agencies are only allowed to hire someone freelance for a very short period of time before they're required by law to put them on staff as a temporary employee. But most of them go straight to temp employee status.

The way it works now is you go into an agency, fill out a stack of employee forms as thick as the Yellow Pages, that range anywhere from the Confidentiality Agreement to the Sexual Harassment Policy (SPOILER ALERT: Don't do it). You also sign a W-4 form which, unlike the 1099, means taxes are taken out for you and you get a W-2 form at the end of the year with the breakdown.

It also means you don't get the freelancer's second best friend next to free food: deductions.

In a nutshell, W-2 money is good and bad. Good because you don't have to remember to pay those pesky quarterly taxes like you do on the gross 1099 income, and the agency pays half the employee tax. Bad because you don't get all the samolians.

I've always been good with money - go figure. So I prefer 1099 income. I'd rather juggle my money accordingly and pay my own taxes. I also have this little pet peeve about the government reaching into my pocket, or paycheck, and taking money out.

Among all the papers you sign for W-2 income is an agreement that even though you're considered a temporary employee, you're not entitled to any benefits.

Including getting the full amount you're owed on your check.

They're Fine. They're Young. They're Cannibals.

As group names go, the Fine Young Cannibals was a good one. Besides spawning a ton of delicious chanti and fava bean jokes, the FYC also gave birth to many number one singles around the world, and two in the U.S.

She Drives Me Crazy and Good Thing.

For a while you couldn't switch to any radio station without hearing SDMC, or go to any club where they weren't playing it. I remember this one night in particular at Starwood. I was wearing my platform shoes and bell bottoms...

Perhaps I've said too much already.

Anyway, time marches on, and the lead singer of the FYC, Roland Gift, is 53 years old now. He's still touring, singing a few FYC songs but mostly his own. I can't tell you exactly why, but it makes me happy he's still out there doing it.

I never thought the 80's were a stellar decade for music. But at least there was one song that drove me crazy for the right reasons.